15.8 C
New York

#9 The Voice On The Radio – by I. M. Perrin

Published:


Drum roll, please, for Story Press #9! In case you missed the earlier version, click on right here.

In case you haven’t learn any of Story Press, take a look at the archives right here.

October 1988.

The rain punches the workplace home windows. David’s assembly is as boring because the rain and the air is dry like stale bread. 

The shopper, one other accountant, won’t cease speaking about how he simply doesn’t have the time within the day, or frankly the need, to handle his personal accounts in addition to his purchasers’. 

His voice is dryer than the air and extra boring than the rain. David nods and thumbs the lid of his pen up and down repeatedly. He can really feel the moisture clambering at his shirt collar; the heating is simply too excessive. The home windows are foggy. 

He wonders what Margaret will cook dinner up for dinner. On the creaking of his abdomen, David startles again to the room, and says, ‘Okay, Mr. Writhesley, thanks for coming aboard. Sadly, I’ve to move off now…’ He factors on the watch on his wrist he isn’t carrying. ‘Father or mother-teacher assembly.’

They shake arms and share nods after which David is alone. He’s the final individual in his workplace, no one else ever stays previous six. 

Aside from him, that’s. He at all times winds up staying later than the remaining, someway.

After submitting away Mr. Writhesley’s accounts, he switches the lights off and locks the doorways. Solely two automobiles stay within the automotive park: the rusty pile of metallic that’s been sitting within the nook for 18 months, and his.

David clambers into the drivers’ seat, chucks the umbrella into the again and zippers up his coat. He flicks on the radio to no matter sign he can discover and rolls out of the automotive park, blissful to be ending one other day.

These well-known, busy London streets, taken by my pal Dan – who you possibly can comply with right here.

The happiness is short-lived, nevertheless. Simply three minutes go earlier than his automotive isn’t rolling in any respect.

‘Jesus Christ,’ he mutters, accompanied by a fistful of honks on his horn. He’s not clear who he’s honking at and, apart from, it’s redundant when nobody is listening among the many dissident refrain of the opposite honks.

David punches the steering wheel, shouts to himself and sits again, his eyes closed and his face arced to the roof of the automotive. 

He breathes in, and out. 

Lengthy…

Deep…

Breaths.

‘…We’re receiving studies of some heavy site visitors on roads heading west of Hammersmith. Seems to be like an accident within the rain. We’ll have extra as we get it. My sympathy to any of you caught on the market on this climate… And you must put up with my voice for the foreseeable! What laborious luck…’

David opens his eyes and appears out and round him. Nothing has modified. The battering rain falls by way of the darkness onto his automotive’s hood, a loud accompaniment to the voice on the radio.

‘It truly is depressing on the market,’ the voice continues. ‘We’re glad to be in right here, in a heat studio with a sizzling cup of tea…, to not make anybody jealous.’ David laughs. Her voice is gentle however authoritative, like you possibly can hearken to her learn kids’s tales and discover some profundity in each sentence. ‘Properly, listener, that can assist you by way of this darkish day, there’s just one factor for it. That’s proper, right here’s Bowie’s As The World Falls Down. See you on the opposite facet.’

David’s automotive slides an inch or two ahead earlier than a menagerie of brake lights shimmers off the glass in each route and urges him to cease. 

Progress… Is that this progress? 

Staring out into the rain and the darkness, listening to Bowie sing…

…Falling

Because the world falls down

Falling

Falling…

The voice repeats in his head, again and again: 

We’re glad to be in right here, in a heat studio, with a sizzling cup of tea… 

Properly, listener, that can assist you by way of this darkish day… 

Properly, listener… See you on the opposite facet…

After which there’s the roar of a bike weaving between automobiles earlier than it zips up beside David. Because it passes, it thumps David’s wing mirror, a bang reverberating in his eardrums. The bike stops and its rider seems round. David opens his door and shouts out, however the sound of the rain is so loud his voice doesn’t carry. Nobody can hear him in any respect; he can not even hear himself. And water runs down the again of his coat and seeps into the ground of the automotive. 

He shuts the door once more and mutters imbecile! to himself. 

David huffs, seems for one thing to dry himself with, fails, after which rests his head in opposition to the ice-cold glass. 

Share Story Press

‘Oooh, I really like Bowie.’ The voice drips out of the radio. ‘What a track… I hope that helped these of you on the market within the chilly, having a nasty day… My identify is Victoria Sutton, I’ll be accompanying you all week from 5 until eight. However it’s almost time for me to go…’

David surprises himself by whispering: Don’t go.

‘Now we have time for only one extra track… See you tomorrow, mates.’

David’s thoughts drifts away because the track begins. He hopes he may hear Victoria’s voice only one extra time tonight. 

A couple of minutes later the automobiles inch ahead, after which he begins rolling, after which they’re driving, albeit slowly. David rumbles by way of the rain till he lastly reaches dwelling. He kisses Margaret who smells just like the couch. He skips dinner. 

In mattress, his coronary heart thunders in opposition to his chest. All he can hear is the voice from the radio and all he can see is what he imagines is her face, her eyes, her hair.

I feel I’m in love, he whispers to the darkish of the room. 

However then he’s shaken by the rain on the window. The rain is at all times on the window.

Margaret doesn’t stir, and he can not hear her respiratory by way of the rain. 

It simply drums and drums, and he thinks, after a time, that that’s her, that’s her voice talking to him within the clamour of the rain.

Learn subsequent version

Share



Related articles

spot_img

Recent articles

spot_img